“Stagiaire, Pompidou”

“Intern, Pompidou.” I paused this morning at stared at my Council of Europe badge with my name, title, photo, department and nifty retractable blue lanyard. Was this actually for real?

Yes, it was.

Granted, I look sleepy and cracked out in my photo, but it’s OK. Because someday I’ll show it to my kids and say, “You know, mom was an intern at the Council of Europe.” And they’ll laugh and mock me just as I laugh and mock my own mother when she tells me ridiculous stories about her college years working at LaRosa’s pizzeria and how she was the first female to work in the kitchen at any LaRosa’s in Cincinnati. That is, if I can get away with keeping this badge after I leave this semester. Apparently I have to return it at the end of the internship. Although, Justin interned at the COE last semester and he told me he kept his. Seriously, they’re gonna have to pry this thing out of my hands if they want it back!

I also met my advisor at the Council yesterday afternoon. I was nervous and panicky all morning and left the center ridiculously early for my meeting with him because I couldn’t sit still. Naturally I arrived 20 minutes early. I walked in heels half a mile to the Council and was pretty proud of myself…until I got to the brick-laid entrance to the Agora building where my heel got wedged between two bricks and I kept right on walking without out. It would have been cool except some big official COE guy was walking right behind me and clearly saw it happen…laughed hysterically…and then mumbled something to me in French. The same man saw me awkwardly fumble for my badge as I tried to enter the building swiping it and waving it at every door and electric eye like a maniac and then attempt to put my bag on the security conveyor belt which wasn’t even turned on and is apparently is only necessary for visitors. It’s OK, I played it totally cool by pretending like I intentionally set my bag there to look for something. OK, lie. I looked like a complete fool.

I made my way up to the Pompidou Group office. Which, by the way, I’d like to thank the brilliant architect who designed the Council for succeeding in making the most confusing, nonsensical building known to man. What the hell does 6 Office B 6.25 C mean? And why must I take two different elevators to get there?

I met my boss in his office. Awkward chit chat and introductions ensued before we went downstairs to talk business over coffee. I’d done research on the work his office was doing beforehand which was helpful because I didn’t look like a complete idiot, but I still felt unprepared.

He asked me if I had requested to work with his office during my interview and I said “Honestly, I’d never heard of your department until four days ago.” I had been looking forward to doing something in the education directorate, but honestly, I think this is going to be incredible. I mean, illegal drug use and drug trafficking? HELLO! When else in my life would I ever have the chance to learn about something like this. Besides, I made a vow to myself before I got on the airplane three weeks ago in JFK that I was going to be completely open to trying and doing new things while I was abroad. So I was ready.

Anyway, he gave me a few options for work during the semester. I’m going to be focusing on doing research on human rights and drug policies of member states to the Pompidou Group for their annual report to the Ministerial Conference. My other project will be to create a survey for practioners (doctors, lawyers, social workers, policemen, etc) who come to monthly conferences and seminars set up by the Pompidou Group to discuss drug prevention, treatment, criminal justice, etc., then administer the survey via telephone and face-to-face interviews and analyze the data to determine how effective these conferences and seminars really are. Hmmmmm, pretty reminiscent of my 315 project last semester I think? YES! :)

Sounds like this guy should meet Coplin. I’m pretty sure they’d get along pretty well talking about effectiveness, feasibility, benchmarks, stakeholders and measurements.

I get my own office, computer, telephone, and official COE email address. Yes, I’m pretty excited. Only downside is that I have to work Fridays too…which puts some limits on my travel plans. But apparently I get to go on a few trips with the office to different conferences and meetings in Europe? Nbd.

Also, another awkward badge story, which Em told me I had to tell…After meeting with my boss, I had to go to another building to get my e-mail address and password. Again, you need to flash your badge in order to get in the doors. So I get in the first door OK and then panic because there were two other doors to go through--one on the right and one right in front of me. I ring the “help” button accidentally before I figure out I have to swipe my badge again and go through the turnstile thing and then through the second door. I finally get inside and the guy at the front desk is laughing at me and says "I knew you'd figure it out eventually, I was having fun watching you ring the bell for the handicap entrance."

I successfully get my e-mail and password and am ready to leave. I’m determined not to make a fool of myself leaving the building. Seriously, I can’t be this stupid…I get to the exit I can't figure out how to open the damn door because I don't realize that we have to swipe your badge to leave too. So here I am pushing on the automatic glass doors and I look over and the same guy is smirking at me. Fail. I’m afraid to show my face there ever again.

Every morning in traditional French houses, you open the big bay windows of a room, push open the shutters and then crack the window for a few minutes to air out the room to start a new day. At night you open the windows again to close the shutters for the night. Every night since the first night I arrived in Strasbourg, I stop halfway through this closing process and look out at the European Parliament and the Council. I pause for a minute and just admire the view and the bright lights and think to myself how lucky I am and tell myself to savor it and remember it because I never want to forget that picture for as long as I live.